Discover Smith Mountain Lake
WINTER 2016
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FISHING IN THE
NILE DELTA
by Frank Ernandes
My career as an electronics engineer in the
aerospace industry took me to many places around
the world, giving me experiences and perspectives
that are never afforded to most people. Some of them
border on the bizarre.
I had one such unique adventure circa
1979. While on a business trip to Cairo, I had the
opportunity to go fishing in the Nile Delta. I was
working with two local business men, whom I’ll call
“Frick and Frack”. One Thursday afternoon, they
casually asked if I was interested in going fishing the
next day. Since the day in question was a Muslim
Holy Day, there would be no business meetings, so I
figured I had nothing to lose.
I had been fishing many times with family and
friends, for all types of fish; however, I was hardly
prepared for this upcoming trip. The next morning,
my two friends picked me up from the Heliopolis
Sheraton. We proceeded north out of Cairo, and
embarked upon a trek of several hours, finally
turning onto a dirt road that led to our destination.
After traveling a short distance down this road,
we stopped in front of a local domicile. A man in
traditional local clothing was standing out front.
His big smile indicated his obvious pleasure
at the sight of his friends. After some polite
introductions, the man insisted on taking us
inside, to see his house and to meet his family. He
introduced us to his wife and two young daughters.
The house was constructed of stones, held together
with a mud and straw mortar. Similar construction
partitioned off several rooms, and the entire
structure was shielded from above with a corrugated
metal roof. Behind the house was a barnyard with
goats, sheep and various other animals. This open
area bordered on a lake. We exited the house, and
proceeded to the Mercedes to get the fishing gear.
When Frick and Frack opened the trunk of the
Mercedes, all I saw were two 22 caliber rifles.
Where are the fishing poles?” I asked.
They explained that the fish did not bite on
hooks, and that they would need to shoot them.
We all gathered at the shore of the lake with the
rifles, where they proceeded to load ammunition.
It was then that I realized why the fish did not bite.
The lake was so murky that it was impossible to see
below the surface. As we waited patiently, a fish
suddenly came up to the surface. Frick took aim and
fired. The fish disappeared below the muddy water,
and immediately, the local man stripped to his
underwear and went in after it. After what seemed
like an eternity, he came up with a big smile and the
fish in hand. This process was repeated until they
had shot about a dozen fish.
We made our way back to the dwelling,
where I observed the lady of the house washing the
salad items that Frick and Frack had brought from
Cairo. Her water source was a well in the barn yard.
After assembling the salad, she invited me into her
kitchen. She had a stove that she used to make Arab
bread by throwing the dough up to the top of the
oven. She then proceeded to clean the fish that we
had “caught”. It soon became clear to me that we
were going to have dinner outside in the barnyard.
She laid a carpet down on the ground,
and placed plates and utensils around the outside
edge. All were then invited to sit down for dinner.
I placed some fish, salad and Arab bread on my
plate, and began to eat. I was taken somewhat by
surprise when one of the goats came up behind me,
and tried to get to my plate by nudging his head in
under my arm. I successfully warded him off, but he
was persistent. A minute later, he tried again. We
finally managed to shoo him off. After we finished
dinner, Frick and Frack thanked their friend for his
hospitality, we said our good-byes, and returned to
Cairo.
This is an experience that one simply does
not get on a traditional international tour. Suffice it
to say that I vowed in future fishing trips to stick to
more familiar fishing tackle.
